Ethics of a Wolverine
by GundamYuy
Summary: A change in circumstances gives Logan a fresh start in life, a chance to forget all his previous sins. All that is changed when Xavier loses contact with Muir Island at a cruical moment and Logan is forced to become the Wolverine again.
1. Introduction

Every night it's the same. Every night I see there faces, half visible under neon lights. Bodies move and sway to the rhythm of a tune I can't hear. Eyes close to feel the music, to feel the emotions of the crowd. Something I know I can't do. Something drives me forward, pushing gently through the crowd towards an unseen point. I feel skin brush mine, bodies jostle into me but still I push onwards. Somehow I know what comes next but it still shocks me to my core. I see the man, standing alone in the crowd, looking out of place in his expensive suit. His back is to a large support beam. No chance of approaching from behind. Why am I thinking this I ask myself. Why am I planning this man's death? He's done nothing to me. And then it hits me. No, he hasn't done anything to me. He's just in the way, an obstacle I must over come.

He doesn't see me; I blend with any crowd. I know this. Why do I know this? What part of me is sure I won't be seen as I approach the man? I can hear the music now but the tune is meaningless to me. It's the beat that takes me; brings the beast to the front of my mind. The music brings out of me the part that can kill, that must kill. I feel it rising inside me, growing stronger with each passing second as I near the target. Why is he the target now? He was a man moments ago. Now he's just a target.

He sees me but it's too late for him. My fist is now against his stomach. I've punched him. Then I see it; the trickle of blood from the side of his mouth. A frown forms on his face as he looks at me and then the life fades from his eyes. I move the body to a nearby chair and sit him upright. I pull my fist away from his body and find myself staring at three shining metal claws covered in blood. I look at them for a moment and then they retract into my fist. Pain sears through my arm but I ignore it. Although it's not actually pain is it? It's the memory of pain.

I turn and scan the room. Now I know why this man had chosen this spot. From here I can see my goal. A small group of men are gathered at the far side of the room in a small booth. Either side are two men, both dressed the same, both in expensive suits, both with that professional detachment. Bodyguards.

I move round the support beam before they see me and blend with the crowd again. No one has noticed my attack on the lone guard. That suits me just fine. Soon they will panic and I know I must be finished before that happens.

I move round the edge of the room looking for the next target. Then I see him; another lone guard with an earpiece. This adds another element to this task, an element I hadn't counted on. He's much more careless than the last, he's turned his back on me. I take the opportunity and attack him from behind. My left hand slips over his mouth and before he can react I slam the claws from my right up under his ribs and pierce his heart. I feel his body shudder under the impact but he's dead before he even started to shake. I rest his body casually in a chair against the wall but take his radio and earpiece and connect myself to it.

I hear their voices. I know they're speaking another language but I recognise it. Chinese; more specifically Cantonese with a local element to it. Not only do I recognise it, I know I can understand it. What confuses me even more is I know I can speak it.

The voice on the other end tells me that they've lost contact with one of the guards but can see him on the cameras. They're ordering someone to go and check on him. I must move quickly, my time is running out. Soon they'll discover they're downed guard and realise my objective.

I push through the crowd again, moving faster this time. I send one or two unsteady dancers tumbling away from me and barely acknowledge their protests as I move closer. The two guards see me and reach inside their jackets, stepping forward as they do so. One of them speaks.

"Hey!" he says "No closer"

He doesn't speak with a local tongue. He speaks like military. How do I know this? Before I can answer that question I see myself attacking the two men. They don't stand a chance as my claws rip into their chests. I hear a scream behind me; someone in the crowd has seen my attack. Only seconds left now. I lunge past the two bodies and block the cubicle the three Chinese men are sitting in. A look of terror passes over each of their faces. Each fears their death at my hands but I've only come for one of them. I look him in the eyes and for a moment there is an understanding between killer and victim. A quick flick of my right wrist cuts his throat.

Blood sprays everywhere. I hit the jugular alright.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"So what do you think, Chuck?" the man asked, leaning back casually in the large leather bound armchair.

The man carried about him a sense of rigid determinedness that most found intimidating. His body, although shorter than most, carried about it a great strength. It seemed to be on the verge of exploding in fury and decimating all around it and was only held back by the sheer force of will exerted on it by the owners mind. Hardened hands met muscled forearms and biceps. His arms seemed to flow into his neck and torso muscles making the man seem more like one large muscled killer and less like the human being he had assumed the form of.

Those that took the time to look beyond the muscles were often stopped by the ferocity of the man's face. A rugged and stubble covered jaw line ran up to wild hair and thick eyebrows. Some thought that the excessive amount of wild black hair was as a direct result of his feral nature but those people were often finding themselves short on comments when they saw the eyes of this man.

Unlike most men of his build, this man's eyes showed great compassion and understanding, varying from friend to lover to mentor in seconds. Any that could call him one of those would tell others that they were never short of an ally when he was around. At the same time as being caring and considerate, the rugged man could switch to a most devastating warrior, not seen on this planet since days of old. Some compared the walking contradiction to the stories of Japanese Ronin, warriors who wandered without end through the lands hundreds of years earlier.

"Logan, I am a firm advocate of the school of thought that dreams are the mind's way of organising the day's thoughts into comprehensive and understandable patterns as not to prevent loss of memory," the bald man on the other side of the room's only desk said calmly. He was one of those people who could truly class the man, Logan, as a friend and one of the very few that Logan would say the same of.

"Spare me the psychobabble," Logan said, flashing a grin at the bald man.

Very few people could talk to Professor Charles Xavier the way that Logan did but there again very few had the kind of relationship that these two men had. Xavier's dream of a homosapien-homosapien superior utopia was the driving force behind his school, "Xavier's School For Gifted Young People" and was a dream shared by most of his students. Those who fully embraced his ideologies on human-mutant interaction would often become fully-fledged members of the school own team of so called superheroes, affectionately nicknamed "The X-Men". Logan was one of these "X-Men" but rarely considered himself a superhero.

Xavier was the exact opposite of Logan. Whereas Logan's represented the feral side of human nature, Xavier's represented the educated side. Consistently clean-shaven and well groomed, Xavier could often be seen sitting behind a podium addressing hundreds of politicians on the nature of human-mutant co-operation. Always well dressed, Xavier portrayed the image of sincerity and conviction through sheer force of presence. Some found his cool and calm exterior almost austere and distance until those people were able to look closely into Xavier's eyes.

Like Logan, Xavier's eyes conveyed his true intentions. They never wavered for a moment in their conviction, prepared to follow through with their actions until their death. Also like Logan, Xavier's eyes showed compassion and friendship despite his somewhat cold exterior. It was these similarities that had drawn the two men together in their respective wars, one against discrimination and the other against his personal demons.

"Logan, if you do not accept that your mind is attempting to reorganise itself to accommodate new memories by using pieces of events that may or may not have occurred, then all I can suggest is that you attempt to recreate these "memories" as best you can but under controlled conditions," the Professor continued.

"Chuck, you know that would never work with me. On Scott, or Hank, even Peter, maybe. But on me? You know better than most that my non-scientific approach to most situations would hardly justify a "controlled conditions", don't you?" Logan replied.

Since joining Xavier's School Logan had changed everything about his life. At first he had been gruff, even offensive, to the students and teaching staff. He would smoke obnoxious cigars constantly throughout the mansion, tear the training room apart regularly, push through the lunch cues and sacrifice team cohesion in the Danger Room for a harder work out. Little by little Xavier had helped Logan accept his human traits, even getting him to stop referring to himself as "the Wolverine" when on missions. Now, Logan wore clean jeans, vests and lumberjack shirts with fresh boots and although he still smoked his obnoxious cigars, he would smoke the outside, well away from the students. Lunchtimes had become much easier, with Logan joining the rest of the teaching staff at their table and waiting his turn in line.

"Agreed, but perhaps there is another solution?" the Professor ventured "Perhaps if I were to give you a task that would take your mind off these dreams and physically exhaust your body so that you had no time think on these dreams before you slept. Would you be interested in that type of experiment?"

Logan sat forward in his chair, intrigued. He knew from experience that when Xavier made a promise like that he would keep his word. Logan wondered what the Professor had planned for him. Perhaps a secret mission into the deepest parts of Africa to stop a potential Brotherhood attack on civilians? No, that couldn't be it, the Brotherhood hadn't shown their faces in over eighteen months and showed no signs of reappearing. Maybe doing close protection work for a senior politician in some war torn country, on the grounds that they were pro human-mutant co-operation? Not likely, very few politicians would actually come out and support human-mutant co-operation these days because of the growing number anti-mutant groups in the United States.

"Yeah, I'd be interested, Chuck," he said.

"Good, then if you are willing I'd like you to start teaching at the school tomorrow afternoon." The Professor said with a small smile.

"What? Now wait a minute, Charles! I'm no teacher!" Logan complained.

"Granted, you do not have the relevant qualifications in the teaching field but I find that sometimes life experience far outweighs the importance of qualifications. Besides, old friend, I have faith in your abilities" the Professor said and for the first time began to move out from behind the desk.

Although rarely televised, Professor Charles Xavier was wheelchair bound. He had been since an incident earlier in his life of which he rarely spoke. Many people made the mistake of assuming that because he was physically unable to use his legs he was also unable to move about and required pushing from place to place. In truth his wheelchair was not operated in the conventional sense but rather through direct telekinetic energies harnessed by the Professor. It was through the power of his mind that Professor Xavier was able to move from place to place, even lifting his chair and himself several feet in the air with great ease.

"So what lesson did you have in mind?" Logan asked suspiciously. Xavier was renowned for his unusual ways of assigning teachers to classes. Scott Summers was the school's designated Science and the Modern World teacher, Jean Grey was the schools Gymnastics coach, Henry McCoy was the schools Philosophy and Politics teacher, whereas the Professor was the schools Classical Literature and Modern Influential Speaking teacher. It had to be admitted that despite these unusual lessons and their teachers, every single teacher had risen to the challenge and since they accepted their roles, not a single student had failed their respective classes.

"Ethics and Non-Aggressive Combat" the Professor replied, moving his wheelchair around the room towards the door.

Logan took the hint and stood up. He followed the Professor to the door and was not surprised when the door seemed to open of its own free will. The two men left the large office into a larger foyer and began to make their way down the corridor passed students hurrying to lessons or gathering in small groups to talk. Logan slipped his hands into his jeans pockets and walked in silence as the Professor spoke.

"I can understand you confusion at this assignment, Logan, but I feel it is safe to say that despite your personal reservations and supposed limitations I believe you will rise to this task as efficiently and energetically as you would any other situation in your life," he said as they passed another group of students.

"But surely there's something different you could give me, I mean come on, I'm hardly the most ethical or non aggressive person here. I mean it would be like giving Peter Stealth and Psychic Stamina to teach," he joked.

Logan heard the distinctive sound of Xavier sighing in exasperation. Logan knew he was beginning to irritate the Professor, but he also knew Xavier's determination and stubbornness. They were qualities he admired in the Professor. To prevent an argument, Logan relented.

"OK, fine. I'll do it but I can guarantee that within a week half of the students will have quit and the other half will have made complaints about me" he said as the two men stopped by the elevator.

Logan heard the sound of the lift approaching from above, a sound that most would not have been able to hear. Moments later the doors opened revealing a spacious metal lift that was well lit. Logan personally hated taking the lift, preferring the stairs at every opportunity. It was claustrophobia but rather an intense dislike of metal boxes held up by flimsy metal cables and breaks that were used every day on a regular basis. He was always convinced his excess weight would cause the cables to snap sending everyone involved to their deaths and putting him through immense amounts of pain.

The Professor wheeled into the lift, turned the chair 180 degrees to face Logan and smiled up at him.

"We shall see, Logan. We shall see," he said as the doors slid closed.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Most lecturers in Xavier's School for Gifted Young People wore a combination of business-like suits or more casual shirt, tie and trousers look. Logan didn't bother with that, instead sticking with his customary boots, faded blue denim jeans, white vest and check shirt look. Most male lecturers shaved every day and combed back what hair they had. Again, Logan didn't bother with that attempt. He knew his facial hair would have regenerated by the time he left the room and his hair was next to impossible to style. Instead he kept his almost feral look about him, instead pulling on his cleanest jeans and shirt.

From the bedside table he grabbed one of his many pre-cut hand rolled cigars and his Zippo lighter. He knew he would need it by the end of the lesson and as the classroom was on the far side of the building he knew he wouldn't be returning to his room until late in the evening. He also knew he should have attempted to prepare a lesson some how but despite borrowing as many books on Ethics from the school's library as he could carry he was no closer to making a lesson plan as he was twenty four hours earlier when the Professor had made him a teacher.

He grabbed his jacket that was draped over the room's only wooden chair, gripped the collar and flung the jacket over his shoulder. He grabbed his keys from the table and left the room. As always he took the precaution of locking the door, despite the fact that he never kept anything valuable in his room.

As he rounded the corner of the corridor he nearly collided with youngest member of the X-men, Kitty Pryde. For a moment it looked as if reflexively she had 'phased' as she had pulled back from Logan but then her form seemed to focus again.

"Oh! Hi Logan!" she said slightly louder than Logan would have liked.

"Hey kid" he muttered as he stepped round her.

Much to his utter annoyance Kitty fell into step just behind him. He noticed she was clutching a large school satchel to her chest and was holding a piece of paper in her hand. He did his best to ignore her presence as he walked faster down the corridor towards the classroom he had been assigned. Eventually he slowed to let her catch up and spoke.

"Can I help ya kid?" he asked.

"Um… no…not really. I mean we're both going the same way, right?" she answered.

"What d'ya?" he asked, stopping in the middle of the corridor and facing her.

"Well I'm taking Ethics and Non-Aggressive Combat this semester and my time sheet says you're gonna be my tutor" she said, holding out her time sheet.

Sure enough after Advanced Physics with Jean Grey was Logan's class, complete with his name underneath it. He groaned and rolled his eyes. It was bad enough teaching a bunch of students something he barely understood himself, let alone teaching someone who's natural fighting abilities were far more ethical and non aggressive than his own.

"Fine. Great," he grumbled as he began making his way towards the classroom "Anything else I should know about this class?"

Despite the fact that it was a rhetorical question Kitty seemed to think for a moment to answer it. Thankfully, she never got the chance to answer the question as Logan entered the classroom.

Most teachers, when they enter a classroom, have to fight for control of their first class. That is, all except Professor Xavier and Scott Summers who seemed to have a natural ability to awe their classes. Logan had anticipated this and had flung the door open as hard as he could. Instantly he felt a pang of regret as he sent a young student flying at least ten foot from the door. Apparently the student had been trying to play a trick on Logan by blocking the door but had been caught off guard by Logan's strength. The student slid to a halt with a wide-eyed look and leapt to his feet.

"Sit." He barked "All off you."

Much to his surprise the entire class scurried for various seats, including a grinning Kitty who took a seat near the front of the classroom. Logan glanced around the room. Every student was now looking at him in rapt concentration, awe and in the case of the young student he had sent flying moments earlier, fear. _This is a good start_ he thought to himself as he walked to the main board, a large screen that was connected to a keyboard and smaller monitor that was on the nearest desk. Logan assumed that this was where he was supposed to conduct his less from and so threw his jacket onto the table.

"Right. For the duration of this course you will do things my way. There'll be no psychic powers used inside these four walls. No telepathy, no telekinesis, no astral projection and definitely no levitation of your pen to write for you. You will do things the hard way; with pen and paper." He directed this last comment at one of the students who had pulled out a small laptop, "If this presents a problem come and see me at the end of the class. Today you'll all be listening and asking questions, that's all, no taking notes."

The class shot glances amongst each other that Logan recognised instantly and so addressed it straight away.

"And before you even think about it, I'll be walking around the room and if any of you appear to be asleep you'll find yourself out the freakin' window," he growled a few of the students sniggered "I'm not joking".

As expected the sniggering ended and Logan began to walk around the room. Every single set of eyes in the room followed him warily as he paced in silence. His movements were precise, like a predator stalking its prey.

"My name is Logan, not sir, Professor, Doctor or any other title your other teachers have, just Logan, call me anything else and I'll throw you into the Danger Room on Level 25 with the safeties off." he began.

"Thos of you with an understanding of Ethics in general, raise your hand" he asked, his back to the class.

He winced for a second, dreading turning around, relaxed his face and turned around. To his relief the entire class hand their hands raised. He breathed a sigh of relief because he knew that he wouldn't need to cover basic ethics with the class, a prospect he had feared since he had thought about it. One or two of the students smiled at him and he pressed on.

"Good," he said and they lowered their hands "Now, who wants the first question?"

He looked around the room and saw Kitty slowly raising her hand. Some how he wasn't surprised to see she had the first question but that didn't mean to say he would answer it. He was mildly surprised when he saw that the student, the one he had sent flying, had his hand raised.

"Yes? What's ya name?" he asked

"Jason Ball, friends call me Wedge," he said with a grin.

"So that's why you were behind the door then Jason" Logan said, and Jason's grin disappeared.

"Sorry, umm I wanted to ask, how could you have non aggressive combat? I mean surely the idea of combat is to be aggressive,"

"Yeah, in most cases that's true, but sometimes one's goal is not to kill your opponent, merely to defend yourself long enough to talk sense into your opponent," he answered _They didn't sound like my words_ he thought.

"Logan?" a voice said from his left. Logan turned to look at the source.

A young girl sat where the voice had come from and was looking straight up at him. There seemed to be nothing in particular about the girl until he noticed he hair change colour from brunette to neon green. Her eyes changed to match the new colour and she suddenly developed freckles. Logan blinked but carried on; he had dealt with shape-shifters before.

"Yes?"

"Lilly McClure. What do you do in situations where you either can't talk your opponent out of their actions or they don't understand you?" she asked.

"Ya want an example?" he asked and she nodded "OK, say ya fightin' a Sentinel, you don't wanna be fightin' the thing all day long do ya? So you ask yourself one simple question. Will I be doing somethin' for the good of others if I end this here an' now? If the answer's yes then go for it,"

The class seemed to collectively frown and he sighed. He walked back to the desk and sat on the edge, over looking the class. He had their complete attention now and didn't seem to be in any chance of losing it. He leant back and began to type upside down on the keyboard. He typed the words SENTINEL ATTACK and saw that the main screen changed to display various videos of several villages on fire with large figures with glowing white eyes standing inside launching attack after attack into fleeing crowds.

"Remember these images kids" he said, looking back at the class "This is what it means to be a mutant these days. You ain't free, cos you got a responsibility. There are others out there that can't fight Sentinels, and it's those that you are protecting every day after you leave this school. Whether you become an X-Man or not you have a duty to defend those around you."

"Logan, could you tell us what its like being an X-Man?" said a voice from the back of the room "George "Shockwave" Jones"

"George, being an X-Man is like being a civilian. We don't ask to fight almost every day, but we know that if we don't then who will? We know that we got these gifts for a reason and we ain't gonna let people die for no reason. We fight every time for freedom for mutants and humans alike. And we'd die for those freedoms."

Kitty, sitting only a few feet from him, was nodding slowly in agreement, her eyes focused on a distance point. She, like Logan, had seen death on the battlefield. The class sat in silence as the videos continued to play on the main screen.

"When you leave this school you'll be faced with things that you shouldn't have to. Hatred for what you are, what you represent, and above all the fact that you are different. You'll want to run away, to hide in a corner and want it to all go away. In those dark hours turn to each other, help each other and no matter what happens know that you aren't alone." Outside the room Logan heard the distinctive sound of the school bell signalling the end of the lesson. "Your next lesson will be held in the Danger Room, so come in your gym clothes. Class dismissed."

For a moment no one moved as Logan turned off the videos. Then there was a sudden activity as the students gathered their belongings to leave. They piled out of the room all except Kitty who remained sitting, looking at Logan as he grabbed his jacket.

"Logan, I know you don't really believe that, so how do you expect me to?" she asked, her eyes accusing him.

"When I first came here I didn't, that's true, but now…I dunno, maybe I do. It's been a strange few years…this place has become like a home to me" he said, for the first time speaking from within to someone other than Xavier "I'm not sayin' you should believe what I'm sayin', I'm sayin' you should believe what you feel."

These words seemed to hit Kitty more than his words earlier in the lesson and she frowned in thought. Then she stood up, grabbed her satchel and left. Logan let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and looked out the window. Outside the sky was clear but Logan noticed that the horizon was thick with black storm clouds.

"_Will all active X-Men please come to my office immediately, please._" Xavier's voice echoed through the building's speakers.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

For the second time in as many days, Logan sat in one of the leather chairs in Xavier's office. As before, Xavier was on the other side of the desk, but this time his elbows were on the arm rests of his chair and his fingers bridged in front of his lips. Logan glanced around the room and saw all the familiar faces.

Scott Summers, aka Cyclops or Cyke as Logan called him, stood leaning against the wall, his eyes concealed by sunglasses with ruby quartz lenses. He had his arms folded over his chest. Like every other teacher in the building he wore a shirt, tie and trousers but now had loosened the tie to reveal his tie was partially undone. Logan noticed, not for the first time, a single white gold band on his ring finger that he kept stroking with his thumb. Recently Summers had gotten engaged to Jean Grey and despite Logan's personal doubts about team member's getting married he secretly wished them both luck.

Jean Grey sat next to him on the edge of a small table. She hadn't been teaching today and so wore her customary casual clothes of jeans, sandals and t-shirt. Her dark red hair flowed down over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. Her usual carefree expression was now edged with concern. She too wore a single white gold band, this one set with small diamonds.

Ororo Monroe, aka Storm, sat on the opposite side of the room in a large leather sofa. Recently she had taken a slightly different approach with her look that Logan found almost appealing. She had sacrificed her business-like attire for leather corsets, black denim skirts, fishnet tights and New Rock boots. This choice in clothing suited her naturally off white hair that hung in strands over her shoulders and down her back to her shoulder blades.

Dr Hank McCoy, aka Beast, was crouched next to her, his elbow resting casually on the arm of the sofa. In contradiction to his nickname, Hank was a gentle giant, happier reading Shakespearian sonnets or textbooks on quantum physics than he was fighting the forces of evil. Unlike the others in the room, Hank didn't wear shoes, claiming that they couldn't make a size big enough for him and that any he did wear hurt his prehensile toes.

Robert Drake, aka Iceman sat on the other leather chair next to Logan. Being almost the youngest member of the group "Bobby", as he was called by his friends and family, chose a more skater look when it came to clothes, donning baggy combat trousers, DC trainers and a hoody with a bandana. His boyish good looks often got him out of trouble but occasionally Logan would over hear groups of the schools female population using his name.

The door opened and closed a second later and without turning round Logan picked up the familiar scent of the most reclusive member of the X-Men. Unfortunately nicknamed "Rogue", (Marie…what's her real name?) was actually the most loyal to the group. A native of New Orleans, Rogue spoke with the distinctive southern drawl that some had difficulty understanding. With no other seats available, Rogue crossed the room and sat on the thick arm of Logan's chair. As always, Rogue was wearing thick gloves, more for the protection of those around her than for cosmetic value. Her ability to temporarily drain the abilities and memories of any she touched had caused her much pain until she had been welcomed to Xavier's school.

The Professor smiled at his X-Men and looked around the room. Logan realised that several of the group were missing. Peter Rasputin, aka Colossus, Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, Jubilation Lee, aka Jubilee and Kurt Wagner, aka Nightcrawler. Their current whereabouts were unknown to Logan, a fact that disturbed him greatly. It wasn't that he doubted their abilities at all, far from it, it was the fact that if they had gone on ahead Logan felt he should had gone with them.

"Some of you many be wondering where Colossus, Gambit, Jubilee and Nightcrawler are," the Professor began. He always referred to his X-Men by their code names when discussing missions. "They are well, currently on route from a school related trip to enrol some new mutants into the school. In fact we should be getting the new students very soon. Forge is with them."

Forge was the school's mechanic, technician and general engineer. Forge had the unusual ability of being able to make absolutely anything he could think of with the poorest of materials. Only last week did he make a small electricity generator using a piece of cheese as its power source. Logan didn't bother to ask how.

"I have called you hear to ask for volunteers," he said "I know that is not the way we usually do things around here and I am aware that may cause some discomfort but I am afraid the situation requires a certain delicacy on my part that requires I change my approach."

Logan sat forward slowly in his chair. The Professor never asked for volunteers for anything, instead preferring to tell everyone what was going on and then leaving the decision making to Scott Summers, the unofficial and official leader of the team. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at the rest of the team and saw similar looks of confusion reflected on their faces.

"As you may be aware I have recently been in contact with Doctor Moira MacTaggart in Scotland. She has been conducting some very advanced and important research into the so called "mutant gene" and has come up with some very interesting ideas on how to detect the presence of the active gene in children before they are born. We were intending to study this further in case we could apply it to our attempts at monitoring potential mutants before they harmed either themselves or others when their powers were awakened." The Professor paused to take a slow deep breath, "I need not tell you the possible implications of this research to a group like Friends of Humanity. I need not also tell you how important it is that this research be allowed to finish in secrecy away from the prying eyes of world governments and anti mutant groups alike."

"Professor, are you saying something has happened to Dr MacTaggart?" Jean Grey asked from her place in the room.

The Professor closed his eyes for a moment and Logan could have sworn he saw for a brief second a look of fear pass over his face before it was controlled. Logan was the last person in the room who needed to be told how governments could act around new technology or mutants with a potential military application having been unfortunate enough to be classed as viable military material earlier in his life.

"Yes Jean. That is exactly what I am saying. At around 8:30 this morning I was in conference with Dr MacTaggart when all communication was suddenly and inexplicably lost. Fearing the worst I attempted to use Cerebro to check the research facility but there seems to be a powerful psychic field in operation unlike anything I have encountered to date. Therefore, Jean I will be asking you to stay here to help me to attempt to break through this shielding whilst any of those that volunteer go on to the island." The Professor appeared tired for a moment, the colour draining from his face and Logan realised the implications of this. If the Professor was tired it was obviously a powerful psychic shield.

"Chuck," he said loudly enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room, "I think I speak for everyone here when I say we all volunteer,"

The Professor looked around the room and saw that indeed Logan did speak for them all. All nodded in agreement, one or two offered supportive smiles. One by one they stood and filed out of the room. Soon only Logan was left with the Professor.

"Chuck, I know what Moira means to you," he said carefully, Moira Mataggart was a delicate area with the Professor.

"I know you do Logan, that is why I had to ask for volunteers," the Professor said, massaging his temples slowly.

Logan stood and walked to the door. As he made to leave he looked back at the Professor who even from a distance looked pale and drawn out.

"She'll be OK, Chuck. I'll tell her you said hi"

"Thank you, Logan"


End file.
